The Wrong Destiny
by LadySeradeRETURNS
Summary: It's 2004, Hermione's life is a Quidditch wife. Married to Viktor, her life is its own prison, glamorous, no passion, no spark. Sirius, now Returned from the Veil, sees this "new" Hermione and forms a friendship to help her see what she once was. Though they start to develop feelings through letters, nothing can be done as long as she is Mrs. Krum. Sirius/Hermione Tension & Angst
1. Christmas, 2004

Chapter 1

Christmas 2004

Down an old street, hidden between number eleven and number thirteen Grimmauld Place was number twelve Grimmauld Place. The naked eye could not see it. Come to think of it, no eye could see it, not even Mad Eye's. It was unknown to the neighbors, who still believed the housing management misnumbered the buildings, that a perfect holiday was brewing beyond the brownstone.

The winds were picking up threatening speeds, causing nearby shutters to bang helplessly against their structures. Snow flurries blinded the air as it rained very thin sheets upon the already white sidewalks. Trees were blanketed with white fluffy clouds as their branches froze brittle and stiff. Railings felt like wet ice cubes against gloved hands using them as a guide to even the more familiar of paths.

In nine years, number twelve Grimmauld Place was having the largest number of houseguests this Christmas since the second generation was still at Hogwarts. At the current time, they were only waiting on two extra guests.

The large sitting room of the Potters' house was warm and decorated with a well stocked liquor cabinet for just such of occasions. The enchanted piano played quietly against good conversation that filled the room; the sound adding charm to the environment. Most of the Weasleys, including the extended parts, were in attendance, along with Remus and his wife Tonks with their young son, Teddy, Harry and Ginny and their children, it being their house, and for the second holiday since his return, Sirius.

"Dinner will be very soon, boys," Ginny said, breezing through the sitting room wearing a red apron and looking a wee bit frazzled.

She had spent a good part of the day in the kitchen with her mother and after several near-missed hexing between the two ladies of the same make up, the delicious aroma started to waft in with her, turning a few wizards' heads along the way.

"That is, if I don't kill her first," the redhead said turning on her heel and holding up the wooden spoon as if it were a weapon.

"Now sis, don't talk about mum like that on days of all days," George mocked with a friendly light sarcastic voice. Her silence and eyes of daggers were enough for him to quickly bite his tongue, at least until she left the room, again.

Sirius rested an elbow on the mantle above the fireplace as he watched the youngest ginger disappear back into the kitchen. Harry stood nearby, a smile over his lips. Sirius slowly sipped his Brandy and leaned in bit closer to Harry, "What are we waiting on, anyway?"

Harry smiled and turned to his Godfather, his eyes were alight, "Hermione is coming. Got the owl yesterday that she and Viktor are going to be in England this holiday."

"Viktor?" Sirius asked as he furrowed his face.

"Her husband," Ron said, standing nearby. "They dated in school. He was one of the champions against Harry during the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"Quidditch bloke?"

"Yes," both men said in unison.

"That's right, I remember. Sorry, I try not to read too much of the Prophet if I can help it. I get filled in other ways," Sirius explained with another sip of his Brandy and slight smirk to the side of his mouth in thought of his "source". It had slipped his mind that Hermione was now the hoity wife of worldwide Quidditch star of the Bulgarian Team.

"Don't blame ya, mate," Ron gave a nod on the notion. "They're still full of dung with the bullocks they put in there. Rubbish, really."

"They're still dragging me through the mud, aren't they?" Sirius asked smoothly as he cherished the way the amber liquid burned his throat.

"Yeah, pretty much," said Ron with a chuckle.

The light piano music was briefly interrupted by the chime of the front door bell, alerting the household of the new arriving guests. Harry excused himself to answer his door, Ron following and leaving Sirius behind to watch as an outsider.

Harry's voice carried through the room, "Hermione!" He could be seen throwing his arms around his best friend, who was also greeting him with the same amount of excitement. First to Harry, then to Ron. She was pulled inside, getting her out of the fierce wind and stepping her into the foyer where she was helped out of her coat. "Viktor, good to see you, mate," Harry continued. "It's been a long time."

Hermione hugged her two best friends like she hadn't seen them in several years, though it had only been two. Her voice could be heard praising the young men like an older sister, proud of what she'd read on them or heard about them that wasn't covered in a letter delivered by owl.

Hermione Granger, now Krum, was fuller now than she had been as a growing teenager. Her body was lean and fit, her skin pretty and fresh, her brown locks had been tamed into romantic curls with highlights of blonde and her nails were perfectly manicured with white tips. She wore two diamond rings, one on each hand and a matching diamond pendant around her neck. Almost a different person, the softer less materialistic Hermione still could be seen beneath the surface in the sincere smile on her lips and the bright twinkle in her brown eyes. Still, she matched her ruggedly handsome husband with his square jaw line and perfectly cut hair. He had a few scratches and bruises along his face and neck, obviously from the game he played professionally.

With a light squeeze of Viktor's hand, Hermione looked at him and nodded, as if mentally excusing herself to greet her extended family. He nodded in return and walked with Harry to prepare a drink for himself.

"Oh, Remus! So good to see you," she said with a big loving hug. She rounded to Tonks next and then bent over to address the small young man that stood at her side. "Teddy, you are getting so big. I know you probably hate hearing that, but it's really true."

"Hello, Aunt Hermione," Teddy said in a small voice. As he smiled, his hair turned light blue, where his mother quickly went to fluff it up, pleased with the new coloring.

Hermione went around the room giving tight hugs and kisses on cheeks, saying her greetings, her holiday wishes and accepting compliments. When she got to the end of the room, tucked against the fireplace was a familiar face that she knew in the back of her mind would be the icing on the cake. The color of his fitted sweater blended in to the charcoal colored walls that he was nearly overlooked when her eyes scanned the remainder of the room.

Sirius sipped his Brandy slowly, listening to the sound of the familiar female's voice. His eyes glanced towards the door, but there were too many people standing in front of him to get a look at the new arrivals. He watched Harry leading a young man, late twenties, to the bar where they clinked beer bottles and could only be talking about Quidditch by the excitement on Harry's face as it lit up for a conversation.

With the sound of Hermione's voice getting closer, he was able to just catch the back of her hugging Arthur Weasley. Her form was lean and attractive to look at. He blinked a few times having caught himself lingering over the way her jeans hugged her rear in the most handsome manner and believed it to be inappropriate considering she was A) his godson's best friend and B) married.

Then she turned to see him. Her eyes locked on his and Sirius was taken aback completely, amazed to see the full picture of the beautiful woman that had hatched from the gawky young fifteen year old that he remembered so long ago. Her curls bounced around her shoulders as she walked towards him, her cheeks flushing a gentle bronze-pink from the cold outside and as her arms opened before him offering a hug, Sirius could only hold his breath.

"Sirius, welcome home," she whispered once she was close enough and she embraced him warmly.

He recovered quickly, having just briefly been caught off guard, and welcomed her in. As the seconds passed, he recalled their first meeting in the shrieking shack and how even then, she showed his Harry the utmost devotion and trust and for that, he would always welcome her friendship and kindness. He was happy to see her and he was proud of her.

They embraced for four to five seconds, squeezing tightly and truly cherishing that important moment they shared. When they pulled away, they just looked at one another for a few extra seconds, unsure of what to say next for Hermione had a little explaining to do.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it right after you got back, Sirius. Really, I am," she started, their conversation close and just between the two of them. "Time just went by so quickly and the next thing I knew, it was Christmas and our turn to come to England."

"It's fine. Everyone has their own lives," he charmed taking in her pretty face. She was so much a woman now; it was nearly hard for him to believe. Not to mention believe that he was strangely attracted to this woman, even with her husband a mere ten feet from him.

She shook her head, unhappy with his reasoning, "No, no, you came back from an amazing trip, Sirius. I'm just sorry I couldn't get here sooner. Everything got so busy and with Viktor going on the tour again, it was just-"

"Hermione, its fine. Don't worry about it."

Hermione shook her head, trying to disguise the guilt into stronger sincerity for not being back in London at the time of Sirius's return. He had come back from the Veil after several experiments at the Department of Mysterious and was merely a rescued miracle. His name had been cleared; he had been given back his fortune and pardoned by the Ministry, as well as granted several million galleons for the false imprisonment.

"Well, you look wonderful," she managed to muster with a genuine tilt of her head.

"Eight years in oblivion will do that to a person," he chuckled lightly.

"You'll have to tell me about it, then."

"Someday, maybe I will. I'm a little over talking about it and really just interested in getting on with life."

"Yes," she nodded, a little embarrassed to be bringing up such a touchy subject. "My apologies, Sirius."

"No need. So, forgive me for interrupting, but we've all been eagerly awaiting your arrival and now that you're here," Sirius turned on his heel and made a beeline for the kitchen, "Ginny, she's here, get the bird out of the oven!"

The room that had been full of jolly conversation and enchanted pianos was nearly emptied except for Hermione and a straggler or two. Viktor and Harry had gone on behind the larger group, talking the entire way vividly about flips and dives, but it was Hermione that stayed behind for a few extra minutes to herself.

Hermione stood in the center of the room, taking it all in. It felt like a lifetime ago that she was in that house, feeling the sanctuary that it provided. Even the old tapestries that weren't evil, but remained part of the Black legacy, still hung on the walls bringing comfort to her at her weakest time. The old clock ticked the way it used to, counting the seconds of life slipping away. She could hear the voices running on top of one another from the large kitchen at the other end of the house. She closed her eyes tightly, feeling the moisture in her tear ducts beginning to fill and wet. She heard the sound of Viktor's voice in her head about his unkind words on their journey over to Grimmauld Place, making comments about how she wasn't paying that much attention to her appearance. It pained her deep down to think that what she was or how she looked wasn't good enough, for she only did these things - the hair, the nails, the clothing - to appease him. But, for now, she couldn't think of that, for when they got back home, all would be normal and routine. Of course, she'd be far from this place, far from her friends, her extended family, her comfort zone, but it is the way life sorts it out for you.

"Hermione?" said a voice rejoining her in the sitting room.

Hermione was slick to quickly wipe her eyes with a clever fake itch to her nose with the sleeve of her shirt to see Ron coming back in to check on her. "Hey. I'm coming. Just taking a moment."

Ron nodded and agreed, "Yeah, it's good to be back here sometimes. Lots of memories."

"A lot," she smiled innocently. She valued her friendship with him after their failed romance, proving that above all else they would still be friends like they promised.

"I couldn't help but notice that Viktor didn't get you a drink. So, can I?"

Hermione smiled brightly, "That would be great. Egg nog?"

"It's not weak, I'm warning you now."

"That's the way I like it," she murmured and followed Ron into the kitchen for a drink and a family meal.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The old oak kitchen table that still stood firm and strong was elongated to accommodate all the dinner guests. More guests than usual, the family sounds of overlapping conversations bounced off the walls of the cave-like room with dishes washing, ovens cooling, fires stoking and silver distributed. Hearty portions were shared, including the perfectly carved turkey that Harry had taken care of as head of house.

The chime of a fork against a glass filled everyone's' ears, quieting the carrying voices of the room. Ginny Potter stood up and raised her glass for all to follow her lead. "I'd just like to say, and I speak on behalf of Harry and me, that it's nice for everyone to have been able to make it tonight. It's been a long time since we've all gathered on good circumstances for awhile and please know that everyone here is always welcome. Our families have grown over the years, but the core of it still stays the same. To all and be well, may your journeys be safe ones!"

"Cheers!" everyone repeated in unison. Clinking of glasses were the new echoing sounds, before voices once again carried over them and conversations were continued.

Hermione sat down by the end next to Ginny and right next to Viktor, who was currently still getting his ear talked off by Harry. She listened in and out, trying to pick up on others' conversations should something interest her strongly enough to chime in, but she was content to just listen to the company. She looked down at her half eaten plate, pushing around the left over carrots into a bit of potato, wondering when the next time she could return to the warm feeling like the one she felt when surrounded by her old friends. She sighed heavily, blinking a few times and then lifting her head to address Ginny about her latest studies.

From the opposite end of the table, practically on the other side of the kitchen, Sirius couldn't help but notice Hermione's lack of conversation. He noticed the way she didn't jump in as much as she used to when she was a teenager. Granted, that was nearly ten years ago that he remembered and he was aware people changed, but it was the way she appeared to be just so resigned to that nature, now. Like a little light of youth that once sparked in her, like the way it still currently sparked in Harry, had somehow faded out. Like a dim flicker, she allowed her thoughts to remain to herself, only brightening a bit when her husband, Viktor, would turn and say something to her. She gave him her utmost attentions, not regarding anyone else should they have been discussing anything prior with her. Viktor appeared to be calling the shots for her and it did not display well.

"Hey Bill," Sirius said, leaning over to his left side companion. Bill was taking a swig from a bottle of butter beer when addressed. "How long has Hermione been married to Viktor?"

"Let's see, guess its right over three years now. Wedding was really something; really grand. Live doves at the reception and everything. They rode off on a broom after they were announced. Funny story about the security, you see there were these three girls-"

"Thanks Bill, just curious. More turkey?" Sirius wasn't ready to hear the short version that was being prepared. Sirius was only on his third brandy of the evening and was not prepared for Bill's version of anything that included every minor detail, down to the color of buttons worn on a muggle suit.

Fleur was just turning to her husband to feed him a large bite of chocolate cake dangling from her fork, thankfully distracting Sirius's curt interruption. The two of them were still acting like newlyweds, while he was on the subject of marriages.

The dishes, plates, silver and pots were enchanted to be cleaned. Ginny would put everything away in their rightful place later in the evening after everyone had left. For now, she was going to have a drink and be social. All the way out of the kitchen and down the hall, she argued with her mother about how things could wait, but family and friends couldn't and to stay out of her kitchen for the rest of the year.

"Mum, this is not your house, it's mine and I say out!" Ginny scolded her mother for the last time as she dashed to stand in front of the kitchen door. Like her older brothers trying to put one passed their mother, her mother was trying to do the same by slipping back into the kitchen to supervise the cleaning and tidying up.

With a stern look from her daughter, Molly was forced to resign with the rest of her family and friends, to leave the kitchen duties to her baby to take care of. "You're just all grown up and I have no say in anything anymore!" With her arms folded, she pouted down the hallway.

"Not in this house, you don't," Ginny added, taking a manly sip of her spirit that was brought to her by her doting husband.

Hermione sat on the old velvet couch in the sitting room, her arm draped over the side and her head tilted in longing as the conversation next to her, led by Viktor, was going on about his latest new roll on a broom with only using his knees to grip.

"Hermione, I think we should be leaving very soon. I do not want to be getting back to your parents' too long after midnight," Viktor said, leaning in close to privately whisper into Hermione's ear.

"Everything will be fine if we get there late, I told you. This is a very special time for me," she whispered back, looking to him like a pleading child.

"Half hour more only, then," he whispered and turned back to carry on his louder conversation with the twins and Ron, not apologizing for turning away from them to speak to Hermione. He carried on talking about himself, treating them like flattering fans.

She had no argument with him and rather than thinking one up, Hermione got up, excusing herself to the loo, but really sneaking out to get a little fresh air. She took the door out the back kitchen, remembering that it led out into the garden that was now blanketed with patches of snow layers.

The backdoor slammed behind her as she stepped out onto the deck. The brisk air hit her face like a refreshing slap, cooling her off from the steam rising from within. She put her hands to her face and rubbed her cheeks to collect herself, relieving herself of the inner frustration.

"I don't want to scare you, but I'm right behind you," a voice said from the shadows against the house.

Hermione spun around where she stood, her boots scraping beneath her over the fallen snow. Leaning against the house like a boy skipping school was Sirius. Smoke surrounded him as he inhaled his forbidden cigarette. Her face softened for him, relieved that it was him over practically anyone else.

"Trying to sneak away?" she accused, offering him a slight smile as if they shared a secret.

"No, I never said that. Which must mean that you are," he replied. There was lightness in his voice as he spoke to her from beyond the shadows.

She sighed and lightly shook her head, "No, it's fine. I just really miss being here with everyone and I feel that I took it for granted for so long that I sort of miss not having it. Does that make sense?"

"No, I get it. You miss being in an old house that represents a dark childhood by fake-royalty parents that fed off of the torture of others, more gingers than you can count and a bitter old house elf that refuses to die. Yes, I get it completely," he chided leaning off of the house to put out his cigarette and dispose of it in a nearby trash bin.

"You know what I mean," she smiled. "I just miss the chaos of friend-like family. Being so far has its downfall. Never mind me, how have you been? You're adjusting well, I see."

"It's a slow process, but I am getting the hang of it, again. Still have my bad days," he said quietly, looking off into the garden set before them. "My dark days."

Hermione slowly nodded, as if clearly seeing his view on the matter and the magnitude of the deep wounds Azkaban left on him, even after so many years. She admired his profile, never realizing his sharp features were so handsome when dealt with a healthy way of life. He was like a classic painting fully restored to its perfection. She blinked a few times to bring her back to her senses and looked out over the snow covered night garden with him.

"Don't we all," she said, clearing her throat to reawaken her.

"Life does get busy. I guess that means we've grown up, doesn't it?"

"It does," she mused. She watched the way the light wind blew a few flakes of snow off a low hanging tree branch overlooking the garden.

"And married to a professional quidditch player, that would be tiring," he teased, mockery hidden in his voice.

Hermione smiled to herself, "Yeah."

"Harry talks about him often. I just keep forgetting to make the connection to you with him."

"Yes, that happens," she sighed, glancing quickly over at him and noticing that he was looking right at her.

"I can't see how anyone would miss you, though," he said to her kindly. He noticed that his compliment caused her to shift her footing uncomfortably. "You're the one that was always leading the way. What are you doing in Bulgaria?"

She looked over, somewhat sheepishly, "Nothing, actually."

"Nothing? I thought you were working with the Ministry on Ancient Muggle Artifacts. At least, that's what Harry mentioned something about." Sirius quirked an eyebrow in question.

"That was quite a bit ago. I guess Harry hasn't kept up with what I'm doing as much as what Viktor's been doing, lately. I stopped working for the Ministry a few months after we got married." Hermione explained it clearly, like she was indifferent to her current standing.

"So, you're not doing anything, at all? You are just a quidditch wife?"

"Well, we travel a lot. I keep up with Viktor's schedule, his appearances, and his meetings-"

"You mean you're his manager?"

"I wouldn't say that. I'm more than just a manager. I just haven't had time to really focus on what I want to do. I mean, you only have so many perfect years as a player. Viktor is in his prime, he's doing so well, and-" she was enlightened to talk about Viktor's current status, but hum-drum about her own.

"But, what about you, Hermione?" he asked, shoving her shoulder with his own. "What happened to that girl that was full of life? So full of useless knowledge that had the entire world in her little pocket and bailed out Harry and Ron when things got thick?"

She was quiet for a few moments before turning away. His eyes were too intense; she forced herself to look away, out of fear of disappointment. "She got married and changed her path."

Sirius shook his head, turning away to look out into the garden with her, almost without something to say further, but he managed to add something anyway. "That's not right, Hermione."

"Not right? Sirius, I truly doubt that you have any idea who I am. It's been ten years-"

"Maybe so, but it's barely been two for me. I just think that someone like you should be doing so much more."

"I like my life, Sirius. It's what I want." Her voice was barely strong enough for a fight and so she retreated quietly.

"I know," he admitted, before he stepped out of line. "It's not my place."

Their conversation ceased as the back door to the porch opened and Viktor stood waiting, holding Hermione's jacket over his arm. He looked at Sirius, nodding his respect and then looked at Hermione. "We go now, sweetheart. It's late."

"Right, it is," she replied to her husband and walked towards him, glancing back at Sirius. "It was good to see you, Sirius. I'm glad you're doing well."

Sirius pushed off from the wooden railing and smiled sweetly, his tone obedient, "You too. You've grown up into a lovely young woman."

She nodded and turned away, passing Viktor through the doorway to bid her good byes to her extended family, unsure when she would see them all again.

Sirius stood with his eyes on Viktor Krum as Hermione passed. There were no words exchanged, only a handshake and as the door squeaked closed, Sirius watched on as the solid wood met the metal frame and clicked. Nothing could have turned him off more than to see such a shining light so dim. It baffled him to no end how no one in the family could see how badly she was struggling to be someone she wasn't. Had her husband said anything, it probably would have been of no interest to Sirius, for he kept replaying the hint of a sincere smile that had teased across her lips when he spoke to her. It was almost as if he wanted to make her smile, or even just make her laugh. Whatever it was, it left him conflicted.

Hermione had changed into someone he never believed she was capable of. Granted, he never gave her any further thought when she was only his Harry's best friend, but it was the shadowed twinkle in her eye that hinted to him that she wanted to shine, even just one more time. The way she stood, the way she spoke, the way she would glance over to him, all drew him in to her intrigue. Whatever it was, there was no mistaking that to Sirius, Hermione was beautiful.


	2. The Fire Returns

_A note from Serade Black__: So, off to a good start. My muse is rather pleased with the outline of this story. I'm sorry to put down "Perchance..." for a little while after an already long hiatus, I just wanted to try and get this one out, so that I might be pressed to continue and finish it without losing that "fire". _

_If you've read my other stories, you will see that sometimes I jump between POV. I know this is against the rules in some text, but for me, it's my fan fiction style. Forgive me. I hope it's clear to you readers, regardless. Also, yes, I have been writing Viktor dialogue like we read in the HP books - as it sounds. Sorry that I didn't do it for this first chapter, I will work on the consistency. Enjoy ~ SB_

Ch. 2 - "The Fire Returns"

The holidays were well over. Gifts had been unwrapped, returned and now everyone was still winding down from the hustle and bustle that always created headaches and resentment. The chaotic thrill of the New Year was beginning to take its stride as the colors of red, white and silver adorned store fronts with fake hearts and otherwise loving romantic things. Valentine's Day had arrived.

Muggle London was far from quiet. Shops still advertised after Christmas sales while others were liquidating. Tacky touristy knick-knacks littered the streets as Americans ogled at the price of three t-shirts for ten quid. You always knew you were stuck behind American tourists: they were the pedestrians stopping at each crosswalk looking to their left, rather than right. Traffic sounds filled the air with horns honking in the distance at nearly every red light, proving it was far easier to walk where you wanted to go, rather than drive or take a black cab.

Diagon Alley served no sanctuary to the wizarding world, seeing as it too seemed to bellow with its own "city sounds" as muggle London. The romantic holiday was all a buzz from love potions on special, to floating cupids that targeted worthy suitors once released by desperate lonely women. Couples walked the sidewalks hand in hand, drunk off special cider imported by Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.

Sirius walked amongst the slow paced crowd; his hands deep in the pockets of his wool pea coat. Trying to avoid being noticed, his collar was turned up and his scarf tied tightly around his neck. He kept his head down, watching his feet and where they stepped, occasionally glancing ahead of him to avoid the pebble in the walking stream going in the opposite direction. He knew this route well, he'd done it since he was a child and just like all the times before, he weaved and bobbed, turned a corner where no one else would pay attention and ducked into the Leaky Cauldron without being noticed.

Once inside, he was welcomed by a warm sensation that seemed to reach his core. The smell of the hearth, the cobwebs in the rafters, the low lighting from odd candles floating about and the otherwise worn-out feeling from its normal inhabitants. Seeing that most of the tables were occupied, Sirius turned towards the bar to find a barstool with his name on it.

"Hey Sirius, having a pint?" said Tom, the bartender from behind the counter. He was just topping off another customer's frothing butter beer.

"No thanks, Tom," Sirius replied, loosening his scarf and unbuttoning his coat like he was settling in for the night. "Afraid I'm in the mood for some liver damage. Firewhiskey, double, on the rocks. Need something to warm my bones."

Tom obliged and poured Sirius's drink before him without any fancy flicks or moves, just plain ice and whisky without the frill. After nodding his thanks, Sirius picked up the glass with three fingers and took the first sip of amber liquid, smacking his lips and tilting his jaw as the fiery contents burned down his throat sending a slight shiver over his skin.

Surveying his surroundings as one does when they sit at the bar alone, Sirius looked to his left and right to see what sort of characters might be his conversation companions a little more into the bottle. To his left sat a man that looked like he was asleep as he coveted a similar glass of Firewhiskey, wearing worn clothes, a cloak with holes in it and a slightly tilted wizard hat on his head. To Sirius's right sat an older witch, wearing what appeared to be an evening gown with cowboy boots and having a rather in-depth conversation with herself. Not looking like either being was worth a conversation starter, Sirius decided to keep to himself and question Tom about the local town gossip.

As Sirius was being filled in on the latest information that even Rita Skeeter wasn't privy to, the door towards the passageway to Diagon Alley would open and close. Folks would greet one another, as others were just passing on through. Sirius was just admiring the dust on the bottles of American beer stocked overhead, as a familiar female voice could be heard two wizards away from him.

"Just a butter beer, please," the pleasant voice requested.

Sirius craned his head to see around the sleeping wizard that was blocking his view of the pretty young brunette that he shared company with on his old family porch. Before Tom could open his mouth to greet the woman, Sirius interrupted, "I got this one, Tom."

"No, that's okay," Hermione said without looking, taking out her wallet stuffed deep into her oversized bottomless purse. A side glance made her do a double take as she grinned, "Sirius!"

Leaving her things behind, Hermione went around the wizards between them to greet Sirius with a friendly hug. Smiling big and wide, her eyes twinkling like she just walked off of a photo shoot; she still had that sweet angelic face he remembered peering at from behind bars. She smelled of expensive perfume and dressed so tidy and well put together in a kind of casual elegance with her coordinating scarf, gloves and matching headband.

"You are a sight for sore eyes in this place," he said pulling away and patting the empty stool on the other side of him.

With a sincere smile, she moved her bags of shopping on the floor between them and propped herself up on the stool, "Thank you." She removed her gloves and folded them delicately before her, as she lifted her butter beer glass, waiting for cheers.

After the two glasses clanked together, Sirius sipped his drink and winced at the delightful burn. "Twice in two months? What do I owe the pleasure? Sure you don't want a Firewhiskey instead?"

She made a face and shook her head, her curls falling around her shoulders romantically, "Absolutely not. That stuff is vile."

"Suit yourself!" he said with another sip of his amber liquid that made him exhale enough that light puffs of smoke exited passed his lips. "Sorry, why are you here, now?"

"I'm waiting for, Viktor. We're in London for a preliminary game and I just went off to do a little shopping while I was here. We're only in town for a couple of days and then we're off to Berlin tomorrow afternoon with the team."

"Have you seen Harry, while you're here?" Sirius inquired. She had just taken a sip, causing her to get a small bit of foam on her upper lip. Smirking, Sirius reached for a small cocktail napkin and offered to remove it from her lip. Ever the lady, she took the napkin from him and dabbed her lips clean of foam.

She shook her head, "No time. I was barely able to say hello to my parents. They're muggles, so no Floo, and even that was an in-out sort of deal. I only came to Diagon Alley, because they carry a special ink and quill I favor and I can't write any owls without it."

Listening to her speak, Sirius found himself admiring how soft her skin looked, glowing practically, like the shining new dew on a leaf during the sunrise. It was apparent even in the dimmest of lighting in a ratty old pub. She seemed to have quite an air about her that made him see her in a more mature light. Far from the little girl that was his godson's best friend; she was a woman all grown up with a life of her own.

"You? What are you doing on what I think is the coldest day I've ever had in February? Shopping for a beloved on such a day?" she asked sweetly. She sipped her butter beer a bit more carefully, her napkin quick to her lips to avoid any foam left behind.

"No beloved, hardly. My days are filled with heavy loads of taking up space and enjoying freedom."

"Sounds challenging," she quipped sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

"Very. I do some trading, now. wizard trading, of course. The muggle stock market is so contrived; I'd rather not get involved in it. I just stick with what I know. It's like playing a game...you win some, you lose some and if you walk away still wearing your shirt, then it's fine."

"That sounds better, otherwise I'd half expect you to be holed up in your house watching bad American television or something," she mused, her eyes glancing to the Diagon Alley door just beyond him.

"I'll have you know that I have quite an extensive, yet impressive, collection of bad American T.V. shows. Catalogued, as we speak."

She started to break a smile, her teeth nibbling on her lower lip, "You are joking."

"Hermione, do I look like someone who has something to gain by lying? I am not kidding, I have it all. From Hill Street Blues to Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, I've got all the decades," he boasted, raising his glass high. His wavy black hair fell behind his shoulders while his chin rose in a patriotic way quite proud of his achievements, "You could say it is my other claim to fame."

She tried to stifle a small giggle, but failed miserably, "You know that sounds pathetic don't you? Truly out of character?"

Sirius bowed his head and leaned in to whisper quietly, "Then don't tell anyone."

Every so subtly, Hermione licked her lips and said, "I will have to come over and see this in person someday."

Refraining himself from furthering the innocent flirtation, Sirius merely offered a genuine smile as he tossed his hair out of his face. She returned the smile, but then it immediately fell as her eyes focused on something just passed Sirius. She quickly set her mug down and spun around on her stool to gather her things from the floor.

"Vhere hav you been? I've been vaiting for fifteen minutes!" Viktor, flanked by two larger bodyguards, came into the Leaky Cauldron by way of the Diagon Alley passageway. The otherwise quiet pub started to bustle with several onlookers beginning to whisper as he rushed in and visually swept the place looking for his wife.

Hermione had dropped her friendly demeanor, her smile gone and she was quick to answer like a wife under immediate duress, "Viktor, I thought you said to meet you in here." Her voice was flat, stoic and as she grabbed the last of her parcels sitting on the floor near her stool, she mentioned Sirius. "Viktor, you remember Sirius?"

Sirius slowly turned on his stool, his eyes traveling past the behemoth of a man that acted as Krum's bodyguard and settling on the gruff looking player. His hair was cut short, military-style, and his jacket was obnoxious for this not so frigid temperature in England.

The two men eyed one another carefully; Sirius a little put-off with the tone of his voice toward Hermione. Instead of a friendly smile, Sirius's eyes narrowed, but offered to be the better man to extend a hand in polite custom. Barely shaking, their grip was firm and tight in order to try and stake superiority rather than cordial greeting. Hermione, who was putting on her gloves she had folded on the bar counter, was oblivious to the testosterone flinging about

With a curt nod, Viktor dropped his pleasantries and turned back to Hermione, "Next time, you be at bookstore like ve talked, right?"

"Yes Viktor, sorry," she said ready to go; her shopping clutched from her hands and hanging from her shoulders. None of the men offered to assist her.

She followed behind them, offering a wave to Sirius, "Take care!"

"Yes, bye Hermione. Next time, stay in London longer!" he called after her as she went through the door that was at least being held open for her. With one last glance from the larger of the two bodyguards, the pub door was slammed closed, more than necessary.

"Git," Tom, the bartender said, wiping a mug clean and still staring at the door after the ogre-like men had vacated the premises.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Down a random road in Kensington, a pale blue house with white trim sat on the corner. Blending in to this very muggle neighborhood, the only thing out of the place was the enchanted motorcycle that sat parked along the side of the house. Though just by sight no one would have known it could fly, the rest of the houses had normal vehicles parked in front or along the houses.

Inside the spacious home, Sirius sat at his small marble kitchen table with four settings, just setting down his steaming cup of coffee in a black mug. He had just moved in within the month, having taken up residence again at Grimmauld Place, awaiting his legal pardons to come through from the Ministry. He wanted something nice, something that wasn't a constant reminder of his darker family, but still something that was fine and antique.

He was never going to be able to stray from his aristocratic tastes, so his furnishings were Victorian, but with a few modern touches. The parlor had large elegant couches with a chandelier over head, but across the wall was a very large flat screen television. Tall windows were dressed with heavy tapestry curtains in maroon and navy, while the walls were adorned with classic art as well as modern portraits of friends and chosen family.

The master bedroom was big with large bay windows overlooking the street. His four poster bed was carved out of a rich mahogany, with royal blue and purple comforter, pillows and sham. A chair and ottoman sat in the corner under an old Tiffany lamp. A raggedy old afghan knitted by Molly when Sirius had just returned from Azkaban was thrown over the backside of the chair.

Overall, the two-level house was still awaiting additional furnishings and Sirius had made a few "to-do" projects, but otherwise, it was home. Complete with framed poster of the Hobgoblins, signed by Stubby Boardman, hanging on the wall of his kitchen.

Sirius was just unfolding a letter that had just arrived from Harry's owl informing him of a dinner with a few others in three nights' time. Dessert was his only responsibility. He glanced over to his calendar that hung on the wall, making sure there were no other important dates that conflicted.

"Blimey, is it the end of March, already?" he asked himself aloud. He thought to himself that though he had been back nearly two years and the time was now flying by.

Also arriving with Harry's owl was the morning Daily Prophet. It was rolled tightly, tied with a black ribbon to keep it closed. Tearing the band off and spreading it open before him; his eyes scanned the headlines for interesting news as he lifted his cup to his lips. Believing that the Prophet was losing its "charm", he was already on the second page reading the stock quotes that intrigued him long enough to check on his investments. With a pleasing nod, he moved on over to the Quidditch scores where the Bulgarian team was ranked number three in the world. Viktor was not named in the brief article. His eyes scanned to the opposite side where they ran the "people of interest" stories of those related to the game. New births...arrests...divorce...sightings.

A flash bulb went off in the medium sized picture on the lower right hand side of the page. The business was busy as it jostled and moved as a player within was being escorted away from an appearance in the states. New York had apparently fallen in love with Viktor Krum and with that came heightened security with extra hands leading the young Quidditch player out of harm's way. As he was being led off, his lovely brunette wife followed close behind; a notebook and clipboard were tucked under her arm. Careful inspection of the photograph would notice that Viktor was not holding his wife's hand as they were being escorted through the throes of fans and curious on-lookers (muggles), but Viktor was holding his wife's wrist. Intimate hand holding was easily misunderstood, but Sirius noticed the finer detail.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Sirius Apparated behind a dumpster belonging to a muggle chip shop that was only open for lunch. Wrappers from tourists' lunches were scattered around his feet as he waded through the bags of garbage. Clucking his tongue as he shook his head, he was careful not to step into anything that might stick to his boot forcing him to take it all the way home with him. Once free of the debris at his feet, he pulled on his coat lapels and adjusted the fit of his jacket as he started the two block walk towards number twelve Grimmauld Place.

The air was crisp, clean and brisk as he walked down his childhood street. Knowing this path all to well, he listened to the sounds his boots made as he stepped along the pavement relishing the feeling of freedom. Once a marked man incarcerated in a venue of hate and despair, walking alone to a house that held terrible family memories didn't seem as bad as it used to be.

The large front door swung open as Sirius approached the stoop. Ginny met him with a bright smile; a brief flashback of Lily crossed his mind. She spoke his name, shaking him out of his trance and welcomed him inside, offering him a greeting with a kiss on the cheek.

"He's in the kitchen, of course," she said with a slight roll of her eyes. "Can't keep them out of there!"

Upon hearing her name being called, Ginny twirled in a red flurry to run up the stairs. Each step creaked the way it used to when Sirius lived there, reminding him of the way his mother used to run up the stairs to stop he and his brother Regulus from attempting to blow something up.

Sirius carried on down the hall, glancing left and right to the portraits that smiled and nodded their pleasant demeanors, far from the gloomy faces that used to look back at him, along with the heads of previous house elves. Down at the end of the hall, Sirius noticed a new portrait. It was of him, smiling proud and standing next to Harry as they both stood by Sirius's new motorbike, basking in its greatness.

Finally, he reached the door to the stairs that led down into the kitchen. Pushing it open, he was swept away with a mouthwatering assortment of smells that seemed to permeate the room in the most enchanting way. Boiled potatoes sat on the stove, pot roast was cooking over the hearth in the fireplace, a salad with enchanted tongs tossed itself as it added spicy ingredients and place settings were gathering to be set up on the table.

"Hey, Sirius," Harry said with a slight wave, as he noticed his godfather walking in. Harry seemed to be trying to follow a story Fleur appeared to have him captivated by. "Help yourself to the butter beer, mate."

"Thanks, just going to use the loo, first," Sirius said and ducked back out of the kitchen after making a round of hellos.

Sirius walked back through the hallway towards the washroom just off his father's old study, now Harry's home office. He passed by the piano, pressing a single key out of habit and glanced up to a smiling portrait of James and Lily dancing by the fountain in Godric's Hollow. He heard the door to the washroom ahead of him open and out stepped a striking young brunette wearing his favorite color of maroon in the form of a wrap dress. Stretched against every womanly curve in the most alluring manner, Sirius barely managed to meet the gaze of her chocolate brown eyes and warm smile as they passed, nearly touching shoulder to shoulder.

"Hello Sirius," she said pleasantly, offering a kiss on his cheek, just like Ginny had.

"Hermione, wonderful to see you," he replied, feeling his ears practically burn with guilt as he realized he had just given her an old-fashioned "once over". "Didn't know you were joining us this evening."

She looked away, somewhat embarrassed, "Yes, well, I wasn't really invited. Viktor had a press junket to attend in London tonight and I sent Harry an owl asking him to join me for dinner. He then replied for me to join him...er, all of you. So, I hope that's okay?"

For the second time, he caught himself, realizing that some of his old habits were surfacing and had no prejudice to whom they were practicing on. Feeling a little foolish, he cleared his throat and said, "I'm sure no one down there would be happier to have you with us."

She smiled and turned away, somewhat bashful, "Thank you."

He gave a polite nod and went towards the washroom. As he sensed her out of the room, something in him wanted to glance back and see those last seconds of her retreat. Just catching her turn the corner of the parlor, his eyes couldn't help but scan over rear, down her firm legs and finish off on her slender ankles. Turning back towards the washroom, he finally urged himself on to enter the small room. He closed the door behind him, placed his hands palms down on the sink and slowly lifted his head to see himself in the mirror.

With a great intake of breath and a heavy sigh, he looked deep into his own grey eyes and whispered, "Well, that is incredibly inconvenient."

The guests had all taken their seats in the old dining room that seemed to have a much brighter feel to it, now that the Potters had moved in. White wispy curtains replaced dark drab ones, the thread bare carpeting was a cream color, and the place settings were shining silver and glasses, rather than old antiqued heirlooms. The table and chairs stayed the same, Harry not having the heart to destroy everything. Even he had good taste in fine furniture.

Ginny fluttered around between the kitchen and the dining room, charming pots, plates, side dishes, serving spoons, and ladles to place themselves on the table so everyone could serve themselves. Not having a house elf did have its disadvantage when it came to feeding a big group. The youngest Potters already had already an early meal, so it left the adults free to discuss what they liked uninterrupted.

Harry sat at the head of the table, Ginny directly across on the other side. To his left sat Sirius and Ron and opposite them were Tonks, Remus and Hermione. Hermione sitting next to Ginny. There were candles lit on the table, plenty of Firewhiskey and butter beer, and Sirius's apple pie cobbler standing by for dessert.

From the start of the meal, Hermione didn't have too much to say other than complimenting Ginny on how she flavored the pot roast and the fact that it was so tender. She kept her thoughts to herself, not contributing too much on the current state of broom makers or the money Sirius had invested through the wizarding trade. None of that appealed to her, so all she mentioned was about a new boutique in Diagon Alley that specialized in bottomless bags and went on listening to everyone around her as she quietly sipped from her glass of Elven wine.

As her eyes scanned over the different pieces on the table, they landed on Sirius for a few extra moments. She watched him carefully as he used his free hand not holding a fork or mug to physically express his views on the wizarding market compared to the muggle market.

Upon further exploration, the Elven wine now heightening her senses, she couldn't help but secretly admire how handsome a man he really was. It had been ages since she'd gotten a good look at him, far from the empty shell of a man she first met. Sirius had become a very distinguished man in his late thirties that seemed to be hitting his prime. His dark wavy hair framed his sharp featured face that was accented with slight laugh lines around his eyes, reminding her of a young retired rock star. He looked quite dashing in his collared shirt and striped blazer, which it was apparent his taste in fine fabrics was not wasted on him.

To the outside eye, it appeared that Sirius was slowly agreeing with the man he had become, rather than the boy thrown in prison. His voice was strong, firm, assertive, while his mannerisms remained friendly and jovial if the moment called for it. He still had a bark-like laugh and it made Hermione smile just slightly when the sound filled her ears.

He appeared to be deep into telling a story about him and James outrunning the muggle police, that Hermione hadn't even noticed the conversation had changed directions and was now focused on her. Hearing her name being called, Hermione gave herself a light shake, realizing that she was zoning off and asked the speaker to repeat the question.

"Tell me about Bulgaria, love," the man she was just admiring asked. He poured himself another glass of Firewhiskey and leaned back in his seat, preparing for a long winded story. "Is it all parkas and snow or is that just what they show in pictures?"

Clearing her throat and nodding her head to Ginny as more wine was offered, she thought of her home, "Well, it's quite nice, actually. Takes quite a bit of adjusting. Seasons aren't bad up there."

"It's cold, I get it," Sirius joked, motioning his hand to go on.

"No, no, the seasons change. The culture is unique and the history is just amazing. I mean, we have some incredible architecture here, but there, it is simply gorgeous. We live in a city called Sofia and modern buildings were built around pieces dating back to the fourth century, which to me is unheard of. I mean, of course we have many of those things here, but to me they're new discoveries; it's almost magical to see landmarks like that still standing." Hermione went on as she described her neighborhood and her commute out of the suburbs, but there still seemed to be something lacking in the passion for her home.

"Have you learned the language? Do you do anything up there, or are you a stay at home wife?" Sirius pried, unsure of the answer he would get. She did not have that twinkle in her eye when talking to him about Bulgaria.

"I've managed to pick up some, not a lot, mind you. I can't carry a very long conversation, yet; it's a very complicated language. I'm studying it more and more, hoping to maybe become a translator within the country, but so far, not a lot of progress."

"A translator? Hermione, you can do better than that," Sirius commented, looking slightly unimpressed. Annoyed, even. Although, the historical elements did travel well to him, he did not see how she could have too much of a social life while living in a place where her language was restricted with a husband who always had something to say, even if she didn't understand it.

"Well, I'm not much into anything more than that, to tell you the truth. I mean, Viktor's schedule is very chaotic-"

"Viktor's schedule? What about yours? Surely, you've got some friends there? Girls to go out with? Libraries to reorganize?"

Hermione shook her head, not bothered too much by it, "No, only other wives or friends with the team. I usually only correspond with family and friends through owls. There are the rare few that I might come across, but really no one I could socialize long enough with. It's fine and that's why I've made a mental note to come visit more often. London isn't really that far away by portkey and well, my family is here-"

"And his is there." Harry murmured, obviously a little put-off that he hadn't seen his friend in ages and when she did come around, it was normally just for a game. But, for the last couple of years, she hadn't visited at all.

"Yes, his is there. It's important that he sees them, because he sees them so little as a player. It's good for him, besides he has older brothers he really misses. I am an only child, so only my parents miss me."

"Not true, Hermione. We miss you, Ginny misses you, and the lot of us misses you. We've been through a lot together and it is as good of a family as I've ever had." Harry was clear to object her justifying her reasons for staying in Bulgaria so long. You could tell by the infliction in his voice that he was not pleased by her residency.

"Yes, well, I did say I was going to try to spend more time here."

A silent moment passed where all you heard was the clock ticking the seconds away. Harry heard his name being called from the floors above and folded his napkin down on his empty plate. Somewhere a child stirred and Ginny's name was summoned shortly after. The two parents excused themselves and left their company alone to the settling sounds of the house as well as a pan down in the kitchen scrubbing diligently, cutting grease away with unseen magic.

The room was uncomfortably quiet and no one even wanted to breathe, so instead they just sipped from their glasses or straightened their finished fork.

"He's just being-" Remus started, trying to break the tension.

"I know what he's being." Hermione held her hand up to cut Remus off. "He pretends to rather like Viktor, but then gets like this when I'm alone without him. It's almost not worth it to argue."

"He's not arguing with you, Hermione," Remus tried to calm. "You're the one woman that has been in his life the most and you can tell that he may be a little protective of you. He's just using the voice to let you know you always have an open door with him. Things like that shouldn't be taken advantage of."

"I know, Remus," she sighed, running her fingers along the crested wood below her empty dinner plate. She always thought fondly of Harry, sometimes more than Ron, but that was to be expected as she was always closer to Harry in that fashion. "I don't take advantage of them, I know they're there, I know you're all there. It's just hard to balance life, you know?"

"Your life or Viktor's?" Sirius interjected, setting his glass carefully on the table, waiting for an answer. He knew the girl felt put on the spot, but it was time she answer for it.

Hermione glanced up under thick lashes, but said nothing at first. Their eyes met and hers were full of questions and conflict, knowing that what she was living with probably wasn't ideal for others, but it was her world. Aware of her silence, Sirius did not allow her to remain quiet. He tilted his head and leaned in across the table as if extracting a secret.

"Well?" he asked.

The intensity of his eyes on her was nearly too much for her to take, so she averted her eyes and focused on a fold in the placemat. Her teeth nibbled slightly on her lower lip as she tapped her fingers nervously on the table top, beginning to feel pressured and ganged up on.

She had joined them for a nice dinner, not to be put on the spot to answer for her life's choices. Especially not from someone who had been gone for over eight years. This was not the time for an intervention. Feeling all eyes on her, she stood abruptly from the table, dropping her napkin on her half empty plate and excused herself.

Sirius thoughts began to fester as he kept replaying the scene in the Leaky Cauldron over and over of the way Viktor regarded her. Perhaps he just witnessed them on a bad day, after an argument from the morning, but Hermione was in London and she didn't even bother to see Harry or other friends? Was she afraid that Viktor's schedule couldn't be adjusted for her needs? He was not going to let her get away from him without an answer. Ignoring all the sets of eyes on him, Sirius stood up and followed after her, through the back door.

Hermione had caught her breath as she stepped out onto the back deck. She felt like the walls were closing in on her with the questioning, the judging and finally the questioning of her independency. The chill on the night bit her to the bone that she'd wished she had taken her sweater with her upon her dramatic exit. Just as well, she needed to "cool off" after that last conversation.

The door behind her squeaked open and she prayed that it was Ginny or even Tonks coming outside to speak to her, but as she glanced back, she saw that it was Sirius that had followed her. With a subtle roll of the eyes, she shook her head slightly and walked to the wood railing overlooking the back garden and the overgrown sidewalk leading through it.

Glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was coming out after him, he pulled a worn out pack of cigarettes from the inside of his jacket. Put one to his lips and struck a match off the side of the house. His first inhale was deep, therapeutic even, clearing his head and preparing to further their conversation.

Sirius's voice broke the silence, "It's _his_, isn't it?"

Hermione said nothing; she didn't even glance his way. Instead, she wrapped her hands around her own shoulders to battle the chill. Without a second thought, Sirius shrugged his own coat off and offered it to the witch that refused to speak to him. Her eyes glanced at the coat, then to his face and finally her own pride won her over, allowing him to set it over her shoulders. She quietly thanked him, pulling it somewhat closed, noticing it smelled like his cologne and secretly disgusted that she found the scent alluring.

Sirius took another deep drag off his cigarette, preparing for his rant. "What happened to the fire in you, Hermione? What happened to the girl that had a passion for knowledge in the never ending pursuit of everything in the world?"

For even longer Hermione said nothing, she was thinking. Her eyes tried to focus on what she believed was a butterfly searching over the flowers, looking for a place to land, but it was dark. It might even have been a small sprite of some sort. Her brow furrowed and it was evident that her tension was tightening in a way that made her whole body rigid under the oversized coat. She felt the overwhelming urge to turn around and slap him, but instead just gave him a side glance as if to barely acknowledge that he even spoke.

"Oh, Hermione, this is a disappointment. Please tell me she's not gone," he asked, his voice sincere, almost pleading.

Her lips felt dry, so she licked them calmly as she prepared, "No, she's not gone. She's still there and comes out at times, but not lately. My life, my destiny, has been driven towards another direction, one I am very much grateful for." She looked over at him, stressing her point, "It's the path that I've chosen."

Sirius shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning into a mocking smirk, "Sweetheart, it's not a path. This isn't some righteous choice in the name of the Gods, th-this is your life as well. I'm not the one to give you advice, nor can I pretend that I know you better than anyone, but what I do see is a beautiful woman with brilliant talent that is tethered by a thick headed broom rider-"

Hermione whipped her head around quickly, "He's not thick-headed!"

"He is."

"No, he's not. He's a very talented Quidditch star that has risen above many terrible hardships in his life to be what he is. He's brilliant, he's a very gifted wizard and could have won the Tri-wizard Tournament if he-"

"-if he wasn't so _thick-headed _enough to be brainwashed by Igor."

"That wasn't his fault! He was excellent in that tournament up until then and-"

"Hermione, please. You don't have to defend your loyalty, enough already," Sirius turned, waving her off like a fly. He inhaled his cigarette again and exhaled it so the smoke surrounded him.

Hermione was seething. She felt her heart pounding, her stomach churning and her hands beginning to ball up into tiny fists. "He's also one of the most romantic men I've ever met, he's a good husband, we live very well," she finalized with a cross of her arms over her chest. The sleeves of his coat went past her hands, forcing her to look like a child in an adult's coat.

With a sarcastic chuckle, he only finished his cigarette halfway and chucked the rest in the bin before turning back around on her. He pushed his unruly dark hair out of his eyes and said, "I'm pleased to hear that, because how else would you be able to swing all those name brand clothes, those perfect nails, the hand bags from Italy-"

"It is my job to look my absolute best in the eyes of the public-"

"YOUR JOB?" he released that signature bark-like laugh that was heard earlier in the dining room. "Hermione, are you even listening to yourself? You're not performing a public service! Your job is _not _to be someone's wife, your job is something to contribute to society, or to the community, or to the wizarding world!"

Sirius did all he could to resist another hearty chuckle. Did the pretty girl actually think this was a job? He could see know that he had struck a serious nerve with the way she was nibbling her lower lip and how her chest started to rise and fall with great depth now. He watched the transformation before him and intrigued him to admit that the angrier she got, the sexier she looked. _But, this was Hermione! _

Still, he could not resist trying to break the camel's back, "Being a Quidditch player's wife is not a skill, it's an insult and I would have thought better coming from you!"

"Sirius, I will not allow you to judge me by my appearance, because of-"

"Why not? You said so yourself it was a job to look the way you do, so what else am I supposed to go on, love?"

_That did it. _Her nostrils flailed, her fists were tightly balled, her lips sneered and he could tell it was all she could do to not smack his lopsided, all-too-pleased-with-himself grin right off his face. She pushed passed him and went back inside, biting her tongue for as long as she could.

Following behind her after a few short seconds, but not too closely, he walked back into the dinner party. All eyes were between him and the empty doorway he assumed Hermione had just stormed through. Every step, or rather stomp, she made echoed through the house. Right before she slammed the front door shut, indicating her departure, she muttered something indecent to call him under her breath. Sirius's keen sense of hearing caused him to smirk as he took his seat. It tickled him that he had reduced her to name calling.

Shortly after her parting, Harry came own the kitchen stairs and said nothing, just merely rejoining his company and pouring more Firewhiskey into his glass. He extended the offer to Sirius, who nodded politely for a refill.

"Sorry Harry, she was being a pill." Sirius was somewhat ashamed of himself for running her up the way he did. It was not becoming of him, nor was it polite to accuse her of such materialism and putting her on the spot.

Harry finally broke into a light smirk and chuckle under his voice, "I haven't seen her that angry in a very long time."

"It was a mutual fight, I'm sorry," Sirius mused, shaking his head. He knew everyone was watching him very closely, still stunned to say anything.

"No, it's fine. Like I said, I haven't seen her that angry in a long time," he smiled. "It's good to see you can bring back a little of the old Hermione."


	3. The Letters Begin

_A note from Serade Black - It's been awhile, but I'm continuing all my stories! I'm into a new fandom, so I apologize for my lack of updating. Stay tuned...more to come (and to finish)._

Ch. 3 - The Letters Begin

They say April showers bring May flowers, but in this case, April showers brought more rain. It had been nearly four solid days that the sky had opened up and decided to hydrate the flowers, trees, cars, houses, dogs, cats and Sirius's motorbike to a new level of saturation.

It had been a week since the dinner at Grimmauld Place. While speaking to Harry a few times, the only word he got on Hermione was that she had arrived home to Bulgaria safely and would be leaving for Tokyo to play the Asian part of the Quidditch tour. Well, Viktor would be, anyway.

By the end of the day, Sirius was sitting on his covered deck out his backdoor that overlooked his own small garden. He had accomplished a lot on the inside of his home: painting, cleaning, decorating. It was finally owed to him a cold frothing pint for the end of a hard day's labor, so he stripped off his dirty shirt and sat back to watch the wet sky fall on his very prominent rose bushes that he enchanted with his own concoction of "Miracle Grow".

As the rest of the day wasted away sneaking into the early evening, Sirius laid his head back against his chair and slid his fingers up and down through the condensation sweating on the outside of his pint bottle. His eyes fell shut and he listened to the sound of the rain drops. Behind him, his raven colored owl hooted loudly, reminding him that she was about to take off for the night to hunt.

"Go ahead, girl," Sirius said, keeping his eyes closed and his body relaxed in the contours of the chair he occupied.

As he drifted off, his thoughts turned to Hermione and his ending words with her. A little disappointed, Sirius was not pleased with being the reason of her early departure from dinner. Starting a row with her was not necessarily out of character for him, it was almost expected, but it seemed highly unfair. The two of them had not even shared a good sit down conversation since he'd been back. Except for Christmas and the short run-in at the pub, he never really had a chance to talk to her. Then the idea came to him.

"Morgan, wait," he said to his raven owl that was just about to take flight through the wavering rain. She glared at her owner. "Can you wait a few minutes while I write a letter? It'll be going quite a distance, but consider the hunt, girl."

The owl hooted pleasantly; her large dark orbs blinking curiously of her new destination as her owner went back inside his house. She craned her head, looking about for any prey that might be mere hors d'oeuvres.

Sirius fell into the chair at his desk with an exhausted thud, looking at the bare wood before him like they hadn't been together in quite sometime. He ran a hand through his unruly hair and reached up to pull out a fresh quill, the inkwell and a clean piece of parchment. Smoothing the paper out before him, he dipped his quill and poised the point at the top left hand corner. Unable to think of a good opening, he ran a hand over his face feeling a little foolish that his mind suddenly drew a blank when about to write someone he had recently had a row with that he also found unexpectedly attractive.

He looked around the room, hoping for some sort of inspiration, but all he came up with was to discuss the color of his sofa and how it so didn't blend well with the rest of the room. Then without reason, without purpose, he started the letter as honest as he could:

_Dear Hermione,_

_Let me first apologize for being a git or even more so, let me apologize for being that thing that you called me as you walked up the stairs in a huff. Your displeasure and early departure was due to my big mouth and ill tongue. I did not mean to say what I did, because Grimmauld Place is as much your sanctuary as it is mine (never thought I'd say that). I do not want to be the cause of your absence in London or in Harry's life and I truly hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive my harsh words._

_On the other hand, it was a great homecoming to see that you still had that spark to argue and fight with me, something I thought was well gone. Thank you for proving me wrong._

_~Sirius_

A little over a week later and Sirius was returning from dinner at the pub with Remus when his raven colored owl was just soaring in from a nearby tree. He unlocked the front door and let her fly in with quiet grace. She perched on top of her stand by Sirius's writing desk and fluttered her wings out from the journey. With almost a smug look on herself, pleased as everything that she'd traveled so far, she stuck her leg out with a letter attached with a pink ribbon.

Hanging up his jacket on the nearby coat rack he said, "Well, you did well." The owl's eyes followed his every move. "What did you do? Peck her hand until she answered?" The owl hooted quietly, sticking her leg out so he could untie the letter and receive the treat Sirius held out in his hand. He pet a finger down her chest and said, "Well done, Morgan."

Sirius unfolded the letter and smiled when he saw the sweet handwriting with the nearly perfect scroll. It wasn't a long letter, but at least as he scanned the page he saw the signature ending with a "Sincerely, Hermione". Something warm settled in the pit of his stomach as he sat down into the desk chair to read.

_Sirius,_

_I will say I was surprised to see your beautiful owl swooping into my window offering a letter. She's quite stubborn, much like her owner, for she hooted from my owl's perch until I sat down to write you. _

_You said what you said, because a lot of it is true. I tell you this in confidence, of course, because I know that you're not going to run out and discuss my issues with the entire town. You said many things that night that did hit the nail on the head, some things a bit out of line, but that is to be expected coming from you. It was good to ruffle my feathers for a change, but please let's not make that a habit. I'll behave as well as I see fit, if you just learn to keep your tongue quiet. _

_I won't go on what I think about in this letter, for this is the first of a couple I might send your way just for correspondence sake. At least I can't hex you from here if you say something off color. Speak soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione_

Sirius folded the letter in half and laid it in a tray that sat on his desk. For a moment he just stared at it, the way her handwritten script looked on the pale pink parchment, written by the favorite quill she spoke of when they met up again at the Leaky Cauldron. He smiled to himself content to know that he didn't scar her. Of course, dressed as fine as she was down to her French manicured tips, it was just her way of asking for it.

_Hermione,_

_I am good at ruffling feathers, so keep that in mind. It's hard to teach an old dog new tricks and a leopard can't change its spots. I'll do my best to warn you when I throw the grenade after I've pulled the pin._

_Saw a book in the shop that I wanted to get your opinion on and if you haven't read the book, lie to me. Please, whatever you do, don't tell me that you haven't been to the bookstore in over a month as this will deeply scar my idea of you for life. Anyway, the book is called, "Finding the Magical Purpose," and it's written by Ceilia Hammersmith. It delves into the different levels of Karma and approaches life from a cynical approach. I'm eager to hear what you think and eager to hear how you are in the North Pole. _

_~Sirius_

The shops of Diagon Alley were busier than normal. Small children clung close to their mothers as they weaved through the sea of eager shoppers trying to partake in their own contribution to the wizarding economy. The season was well into spring, allowing people to shed their scarves and heavy cloaks. Fresh flowers were in bloom and several shops sold exotic odd hybrids outside of their store fronts in order to attract passers-by. Snapping sounds and the occasional firework could be seen and heard vacating the brightly painted store advertising the Weasley's Joke Shop that was along the path towards Gringotts.

Sirius was passing the Quidditch sports store when his eye caught the newest Chudley Canons jersey displayed in the front window next to a broom. It was enough for him to stop in, out of sheer curiosity, but mostly it was to see if there was anything interesting that he might be able to pick up for Harry.

As he stepped inside the colorful shop that was a hooligan's dream he was taken aback with banners soaring to the ceiling, flags waving freely and small statues of certain team players having to be separated due to fighting and put into small boxes. The wireless in the shop blared different fight songs throughout the store and a few teenagers were falling in love with the flashing posters of players riding on their brooms.

"Something I can help you with, Mr. Black?" said the shopkeeper.

Though Sirius did not know the man, he displayed no surprise when his name was heard. Thanks to the nearly weekly column of Sirius's whereabouts in the Daily Prophet, he would be more amazed if there was someone who didn't know who he was. One could only hope for the future generation.

"I'm just looking, really. I'll let you know," he said nodding politely.

"Absolutely, I'm here," he waved with a spring in his step, pleased to be speaking freely to a celebrity. "Do you have a favorite team, sir? Canons?"

"Ah, not particularly. I know that's wrong to say," Sirius smiled, glancing to the brooding poster of some angry Irishman shaking his fist as he rode his broom. "What about...Bulgaria?"

"Ah, the Vratsa Vultures are very hot right now. They just played in Tokyo the night before last and won! Swift mover that Lorski; really gets the blood going as a spectator. Hooligans go absolutely insane when he plays." The shopkeeper carried on, believing that Sirius was something of a fan. Whereas Sirius couldn't bring himself to actually stop him, once the short man started his rant.

"Not seen a game live, actually," Sirius finally got in, just in time to see the shopkeeper's face fall. "I'm just friends with one of the wives of the team." Sliding his hands nervously into his pockets, Sirius carried on browsing, his attention grabbed by small statues of the players. They all stood stiff, alert and very smug as they were being surveyed.

"Well, you're missing out," the shopkeeper said somberly. "However, the Quidditch wives are their own personal team, if you ask me. All of them are truly beautiful women. Exotic, too. The Bulgarians seem to have a knack of attracting women from all over the world - including Iceland. Of course, Viktor Krum is the only one that's married to an English woman."

Sirius allowed the man to carry on, but then jumped at the window of opportunity when a group of young children came in and wanted to touch all the brooms currently displayed just out of their grasp. This distracted the shopkeeper enough for Sirius to quickly pay for a new Chudley Canon's jersey for Harry and be out the door on his way.

As he Apparated home, it dawned on him that the reason his owl had taken longer than usual was because she had to travel to Tokyo to deliver the letter. Thinking to himself as he eyeballed the normal mouse-flavored owl treats he always gave to Morgan, he made himself a reminder that he would go out and get the top of the line treats for her, for traveling such a great distance for him.

_Dear Sirius,_

_Never have I felt so tall! We're just leaving Japan now. We won, enough said. This country was beautiful, rich in history; never want to live here, though._

_Your book you mentioned, I have read it. Many times. Its eye opening and it has kept me company at times when I pondered what the next step in life is. It helped me answer a few lingering questions and maybe, it'll help you. Odd pick up for someone like you. Are you searching for answers from your afterlife? Just kidding._

_I will be in London for my father's birthday next week. Care to meet me for afternoon tea (not a pint, tea!) on Wednesday? Not sure if our owls will correspond in time, so I will be at The Capital on Basil Street about 1pm. _

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione_

Sirius loved the feeling of the wind in his hair when free of a coat, hat and scarf. He felt truly alive and adventurous, even if he was now responsible enough to stick out his arm to indicate which direction he was turning, whereas in his youth it was always a matter of chance, or arrogance rather. The day was overcast, but not raining as he made his way further into London, passing Harrods Department Store on his left hand side.

Tourists were scattered over the sidewalk like herds of cattle moving amongst the grass, occupying every open space for walkers as they took turns taking pictures out in front of the famous store. Locals pulled up their collars, plugged in their iPods and walked the sidewalks alongside of them, weaving and bobbing throughout the hordes of onlookers that still looked the wrong way when crossing the street.

Sirius managed to find a good parking spot for his motorcycle and stepped off of it like a cowboy climbing off his horse after a long ride. He charmed a locking spell from the wand hidden in his pants pocket, making the motorbike weight approximately three tons, should anyone try and steal it. Of course, if anyone was eager enough to take it, Sirius probably would have caught them in the act as they tried to ride off at less than half a mile per hour, pulling its now true weight. Should that fail, the exploding seat was always a winner and he'd only managed to see that erupt once when some cocky teenager thought it a good idea to try and ride it off into the sunset. Poor bloke wasn't able to sit down for at least three weeks, from what he heard.

Sirius dusted off his jeans and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He flexed his forearms as he walked, pulling the fold over the other as he duplicated the other sleeve. Running a hand through his tousled hair, he smoothed out his thin beard stubble, making sure he looked tidy enough for The Capital.

He walked up the stairs into the lobby of the pretty hotel and tea shop, having the door opened for him by the doorman standing straight and proud like a Yeoman Warden at the Tower of London. Nodding to the man, Sirius stepped in and looked around the lavish accommodations when he saw the afternoon tea seating area. He walked towards the small tables, his boots clicking on the marble floor below him, and immediately trying to muffle the sounds echoing off the walls in the lobby. Tables were draped in white linens and biscuit plates were set out where an array of pastries was pleasantly displayed on the counters along the walls. Sofas and comfortable chairs were by the windows for those having tea alone.

Sirius stuck his head around a corner where another small alcove of seating was and saw Hermione sitting by three other empty chairs. Her tea and biscuit were on the table next to her. She appeared like a perfect little debutante: ankles crossed, lilac dress with matching shrug, the sides of her hair swept up in barrettes and on the floor next to her was an enormous purse you could fit a small dog into. Her face was angelic, light make-up and her skin radiated perfection. As he observed her for a few moments longer, he watched as she broke the character she had become by lifting a finger to her lip and gently nibbled. Sirius couldn't help but smile to himself. _All the stylists in the world couldn't stop a habit like biting your nails._

A few more steps in and Sirius gave himself away by the clicking of his boots. Hermione glanced up, locked eyes and grinned. She set her book aside and stood to greet him with a cordial hug and chaste kiss on the cheek.

"So glad you came to meet me. I wasn't sure if your owl would have made it back in time." Hermione sat down, smoothing out her dress and immediately crossing her ankles and keeping her back straight, as if she were being interviewed.

"She got back yesterday; she makes very good time," he said sitting down in the plush chair across from her. A waiter came over to offer him tea, to which Sirius replied, "Just black, no thrills." The waiter nodded and left to retrieve Sirius's choice.

"You know, they have quite a variety if you wanted-"

"I've been here many times...as a boy. My Uncle Alphard took me. Mum couldn't stand the muggle establishments, but Uncle Alphard really liked their chocolate biscuits the best. Of course, they've done a bit of renovations, since then, "he said looking about the room at the updated decor that had since changed since the seventies. "I'm boring when it comes to tea."

Hermione smiled, tilting her head sincerely for her friendly company. When she first looked up, plucking herself from her fiction world, her heart fluttered just enough to be elated by his arrival. Too brief to have noticed, she licked her lips nervously after their customary embrace for his cologne was somewhat alluring and it caught her incredibly off guard. Slightly ashamed of herself, Hermione was not prepared for him to have looked the way he did. A hasty glance allotted her just enough time to grant herself a subtle approval of her secret turn on: forearms.

His forearms were among the nicest that she'd noticed, even nicer than Viktor's. Some women preferred nice shoulders, or legs, or thighs, but for the once bushy haired girl it was the forearm. Sirius's, as she noticed, appeared strong and nicely tanned with just a bit of veiny muscle pulsing through as he'd shift in his chair, scratch his arm or gesture with his hands. Her eyes followed along his forearms down to his hands and she watched carefully as he reached up to the collar of his shirt to adjust it, in order to keep his Azkaban tattoo out of sight.

Clearing his throat, he started, "Hermione, I want to apologize for our last conversation in person-"

Hermione held up a hand to stop him in mid sentence. She closed her eyes and shook her head, "No. Nothing more."

"But-"

Giving a half grin and a stern stare, indicating that he wasn't to continue, Sirius complied. Hermione rested her hand on the handle of her cup and lifted her steaming tea to her lips; her eyes remained on Sirius with the silent threat that she could hex him, should he say anything further.

Their afternoon tea went on until after three-thirty. Sirius went on discussing the book he had just purchased, as Hermione elaborated on her views of the contents. They both got very long winded on theories of the afterlife, Sirius having been there, along with topics on reincarnation and the path beyond. They learned that their spiritual views were well matched and in agreement, whereas these days provoking thoughts of a different nature were considered taboo and not acceptable for everyday conversation. They both swore to keep their secrets.

Time had escaped them like a mistress dashing out the backdoor and neither one of them had bothered to glance at the time. It wasn't until the afternoon waiter came over to inquire on their comfort.

The young man with the black vest, probably a few years older than Hermione, cleared his throat to gain their attention. "Do you need me to prepare dinner reservations for the two of you at a restaurant nearby?"

"Oh golly, is it that late already?" Hermione asked. She immediately shook her as if releasing herself from a trance she allowed herself to be swept up in with the handsome older wizard sitting across from her. Gathering her things that were scattered around her, she craned her neck to see the clock on the building across the street. "Blimey, it's nearly four! I can't believe it, Viktor will be-"

"Ah, no, thank you. We're fine," Sirius advised the waiter with a polite nod.

As if someone had cast a fast forward spell on her, Hermione hurried herself into stacking books, collecting her notepad and tucking them into a slim briefcase nearby. She hoisted up her designer bag over her shoulder, pulled her sunglasses from it and paused to say good-bye to her afternoon companion.

"Sirius, I'm sorry to have to do this to you, but I think I'm going to be late," she stressed, trying to make sure she had collected all her items around her. She felt like a mini hurricane had briefly whirled her world and then it hit her; she stilled. Her eyes met Sirius's as if just finding him in the midst of the fury and sighed, "I'm sorry."

He couldn't help but smile at her pretty face, for when she tilted her chin just so, there was a glimmer of the young girl he once knew. However, the intoxicating scent of her perfume reminded him that a stunning grown woman sat in her place and if he didn't check himself, she would notice he was checking her out like a another prospect. He quickly averted his eyes, created business by double checking the placement of his wand and flipped his hair behind his shoulders.

He offered a friendly smirk, "its fine, love. You have obligations...you have a husband to run to."

"Actually, I have a dinner meeting to go to," she corrected, catching his quip. "Viktor isn't here in London with me. He and my father don't really get along, so it was best he stayed home. I do, however, need to Floo him before I go into this meeting tonight, so... I know, boring stuff for you."

Sirius feigned interest, "No, no, I find the life of a Quidditch player as fascinating as watching grass grow! Honest!"

When she flashed Sirius a smile, keen on the tease, she caught a flicker of something that up until this point, she had pushed away. It was a glimmer of attraction. A miniscule moment of weakness for a man she once harbored a crush on when she was freshly fifteen. But, as a married woman, she shrugged it off and thought no more of it.

With her things gathered, Sirius followed suit and smiled politely as he held his hand out for her to leave first. She walked passed him, clutching her purse and briefcase and clicked her shoes along with him as they walked together towards the front doors. Ever the gentleman, Sirius waved off the doorman from his purpose and reached over to hold the door open for Hermione.

With a polite nod, she stepped through the doorway and spun on her heel to face him again. She flipped her hair free over her shoulders, slipped on her sunglasses and said, "Thank you for meeting me, Sirius. I really enjoyed my afternoon."

"I did as well, thank you for the invitation," he replied while sliding a hand into his pocket. "When are you coming back to London to visit, again?" Though he tried to play cool, Sirius immediately felt like a teenage boy kicking the ground, not wanting to say good-bye to the pretty witch. It was hard to admit, but he found himself comfortable with her and it was almost a shame that she needed to run off.

"I really don't know, to be honest. My schedule is really-"

"-all about Viktor, yes, I know."

"Sirius, please don't," she pleaded kindly. Their afternoon had gone rather smoothly and she didn't need to heat it up at its end.

"I know, I know, I apologize. I'll try to bite my tongue around you, more often."

She gave him a slight pout and clutched the handle of her bag tighter, "Have a good night, Sirius. Be careful on that motorbike." Without another word, she turned around and walked down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

Sirius murmured a good-bye, somewhat stubbornly, but managed to sound like a mature adult, rather than a petulant child. He continued to stare at the sidewalk, deep in the thought that one of the most beautiful witches had just left his company. It was wrong, it was pathetic, and it was almost a cruel game to play, because he had caught a certain look from her. He noticed how she glanced his way when she thought he was preoccupied with something, or how he'd noticed more than once that she shamelessly looked him over, at least twice in their afternoon tea. It was her eyes, but then the soft skin of her cheek and over those lips...Merlin's Beard, those lips...

"And Sirius?" The piercing sound of his name from her voice seized him and he immediately spun around to see her smiling, now halfway down the sidewalk, as she added, "Keep writing, yeah?"

"I will," he said with a slight nod and watched her disappear down the stairs beneath the Underground sign.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The Ministry of Magic was bustling at one o'clock in the afternoon on a Thursday. Fireplaces to his left ignited with green flames as later commuters walked out of them one right after the other. The fountain in the center of the main lobby of the Ministry was currently being drained and the galleons and sickles taken from it, preparing for their annual donation to St. Mungos Children's Ward. Cleaners that worked feverishly were supervised by Ministry officials that stood by watching them carefully, as well as guarding the large barrel that contained all the gathered money. Waving to one of the officials that stood guard, Sirius walked over and smiled politely.

"Ah, hello, Mr. Black. Pleasant morning, yes?" the short balding man asked for small talk. He was still trying to keep an eye on the cleaners and be courteous to the wizarding world's best known (pardoned) convict.

"Good morning, yes. May I?" Sirius asked as he removed his wallet from his inner jacket pocket and took out what remaining money he had in it. He dropped it into the barrel and nodded to the man for a good day.

Sirius had come to the Ministry to meet Harry, the head Auror, for lunch. It wasn't every day that he was convinced to go to the Ministry willingly, but his godson had tempted him with out-of-this-world curry from a shop that had just opened up around the corner. Not being able to pass up a proper curry, Sirius agreed to meet him.

Along the way to the elevators, a news agent waved the Daily Prophet in his hands shouting something along the lines of Dumbledore's newest recruit as a successor to Hogwarts. Sirius stood by an old wooden stand that was lined with almost two dozen or so different publications. The moving ones were obviously wizarding world produced, where the static covers were from the muggle world. It was apparent that many witches enjoyed catching up on the gossip of David & Victoria Beckham as they had their lunch.

Stopping to second glance a cover, Sirius moved on out of the crowd of afternoon businessmen, now standing closer to the news stand. On the cover of Witch Weekly was a picture of ten very beautiful women, all dressed proper in form fitting dresses, their hair blowing about them in the wind with flawless make-up. They stood side by side, glancing around at the other witches standing next to them, all competing for the viewer's sole attention. The second from the left, the one in the red knees-length dress was Hermione. Knowing what the young woman was like, made her stand out of place amongst these women. However, a closer look would reveal that she fit in with their "look" and it seemed to come quite naturally to her, coached or not. The lower left-hand corner of the magazine cover read in bold print: Vulture's Vixens.

Sirius felt a chuckle erupt in his throat, enough so that he rooted around for excess change in his pocket to purchase the magazine. He managed the exact amount, paid the news agent and carried on his way to the overfilled elevators to find Harry's floor.

Their lunch was satisfactory, according to Sirius's Indian taste buds, but the conversation with his favorite person was better than expected. They were halfway through their meal and already they were up to date on the personal day's events, Molly's latest rants and the final insider's tip on the Weasley's joke shop and where it faired on the market (seeing as Sirius remained a private investor, holding a great interest in the men's' future, along with the prospect of seeing some of he and James's ideas come to light).

While stealing the last piece of naan bread and dipping it in mango chutney, Sirius pulled out the magazine her purchased from the inside of his jacket pocket.

"Sirius, I don't know what to think with you pulling out a magazine like that out of your coat," Harry chuckled, stuffing his mouth with a piece of seasoned chicken.

"Sod off, boy," Sirius said, flipping through the pages until he stopped on two of the photos that featured their friend. The two men looked it over as she smiled and laughed at the two of them from the portrait, while occasionally pulling down her sunglasses and spinning around, letting her light brown locks fly around her.

"What do you want me to say, mate? I haven't got an opinion on it, anymore. She made her choice, she married a Quidditch bloke and now she's never home. I miss her, yeah. I know Ron still gets a little sad whenever she's off having her life, but we can't keep holding onto the past."

Sirius's mouth dropped open, quirking his left eyebrow up as if Harry had just said something most disturbing. In an instant, he rolled up the magazine and gave his godson a proper hard swat on the side of his head that sounded like he'd just killed a fly. "You git, I'm not talking about that! I'm talking about this! The hair, the make-up, the clothes...she was never like this! She's beautiful without that stuff," he said, waving his finger all over the presentation as if frighten of the image flashing her pearly white teeth at them flirtatiously. "What happened to the know-it-all that was smart and clever? Where's the level-headed girl with bushy hair and quick curt answers to drive us all mad? This- This- this isn't her."

"Sirius, I agree," Harry said exasperated; he'd had this same conversation with many others. "She's not the same Hermione and unfortunately, we have to accept this. When she first dated Viktor, it wasn't really this extreme, but you could see that she was secretly dazzled by the gifts and the money. Not to mention, he is technically her first love." The wise one sat back in his chair and swigged his Indian beer, offering his godfather a sympathetic head tilt that he was just seeing this tainted light only now.

"Yes, you do," Sirius was quick to quip. He closed the magazine in disgust, unable to handle the flirty glances her picture kept giving him. It was already enough to drive a man insane with the way she would bat her eyes, lick her lips and flip her hair over her shoulder... _Sirius, snap out of it! _"How long has she been married, again?"

"Just over three years, now. They got married about a year before you dropped back in," Harry said, trying to recollect the exact time. He leaned forward on his elbows to share his conversation. "They made it a year, before he asked her to marry him. Moved a little quick, if you ask me."

Sirius feigned disinterest, but it was hard to ignore the girl entirely as she smiled and twirled for the viewer. Though she told the story of a happy, having-it-all kind of girl, the Dog Star namesake couldn't help but wonder if she was really have a good time. Spending only a few more seconds lingering over the way her dress pulled tightly across her bosom in the picture, he rolled the magazine back up and slipped it back into the inside of his jacket.


End file.
